


The Green Man

by Fiona James (Bluewolf458), raynewton



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Fiona%20James, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/raynewton
Summary: A supposedly routine mission takes a very unusual turn for Kirk and Spock





	The Green Man

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 1980, in Nome 2

THE GREEN MAN

by Val Marshall

Captain's Log, Stardate 5923.6:

 Lieutenant David Petyte of the Anthropology division has not reported from Ixle for the last two years; he was assigned to the planet to study the reported similarities between Ixle's religion and some of the ancient religions of Earth. It was hoped that this survey of religious parallels would help prove or disprove the theory that at least one of Earth's early civilizations knew space travel. The Prime Directive is strongly in force, since this culture is part of a scientific investigation, quite apart from its level of civilization, and therefore must not be contaminated.

It might be wiser to take Dr. McCoy with me; however, I feel that Mr. Spock, since he is also a scientist, will be able to give me the most logical advice concerning this matter.

Sensors have detected a life-form reading that is slightly different from those emanating from the planet's inhabitants; we assume that this must be Lt. Petyte, and intend to beam down to him directly as soon as we can be sure that he is alone.

***

As the Enterprise officers materialized, they were startled by an exclamation from the man working in the room.

"The Green Man!"

They stared at the man, recognizing him at once as the missing scientist, and wondering at the almost awed note in his voice.

"Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise, Lt. Petyte; this is my First Officer, Mr. Spock."

"Yes, of course, Captain, you must forgive me. I have been here so long, without any contact since my radio was destroyed, that I was beginning to think that the Federation had forgotten me." He smiled tightly. "You must forgive my reaction to your appearance, but my cover is instinctive by now. You see, Commander Spock closely resembles pictures of the corporeal form of the native deity, whose spiritual form is always referred to as 'The Horned One'."

Kirk frowned - the man's phraseology was strangely formal - and then he relaxed, reminding himself that, after so long, Petyte's use of native terminology was understandable.

Before he could say anything more they were interrupted. Two natives entered, carrying a box between them. They put it down, glancing towards Petyte respectfully as they did so. Their eyes widened as their gazes fell on Spock, and without hesitation they dropped to their knees, heads lowered.

Kirk and Spock glanced at each other; the incident confirmed Petyte's explanation. The scientist spoke quickly, words which the linguistic inserts in their arms failed to translate. One of the natives answered, Petyte replied, and the natives stood, then bowed their way out respectfully. Petyte turned his attention back to Kirk, seeing his bewilderment.

"I should explain, Captain, that the language you have just heard is an archaic one, spoken only here in the Holy City, the religious center of Ixle. It is inhabited only by priests, temple servants and their families. To study the religion in depth, I had to infiltrate the priesthood; I am now a well-esteemed servant of the temple, and in this position I have been able to further my studies most satisfactorily.

"It is a pity that you were seen, but I could not hazard my position by silencing my servants; I have accounted for your presence, and the High Priest will be informed. Captain, it seems to me that you have arrived at a significant time - and it is a fortunate coincidence that your First Officer is a Vulcan."

In response to Kirk's enquiring glance, Petyte went on to explain that a disastrous accident some months previously had killed the young priest whom tradition decreed was the mortal incarnation of the Green Man, and the younger priest who was his chosen Consort. Every seven years there was a symbolic sacrifice in which a few drops of the Green Man's blood were shed as a fertility rite; at the same time, the role of the Green Man passed to the Consort, and the original holder of the title went into honorable retirement.

However, if this symbolic ritual was not carried out for any reason, it was believed that the Horned One would be angry, and punish the land with famine. The only admissible reparation was for all children born since the last ritual seven years before to be massacred, and their blood used to expiate the wrong done to the god.

Until now the accident had been kept a secret, but when the common people learned that this sacrifice must be made, the resulting panic would be indescribable. They would submit to the god's decree, but for the next seven years fear would dominate their lives, fear that the expiation had not been sufficient. The arrival of a Vulcan, who so closely resembled the Green Man, with a solitary companion, had already been taken by the men who had seen them as a sign that the Horned One was showing his people great favor, by sending his corporeal incarnation and his own Consort to participate in the ritual in place of the men who had died.

Kirk and Spock looked at each other questioningly; they knew nothing of this religion save what Petyte could tell them. They had no real objection to playing the roles, but could they play them well enough? If they slipped up through ignorance of the proper form, what repercussions might there be? Kirk voiced this apprehension to Petyte.

He assured them that, in fact, the ritual was very simple. They would be ceremoniously bathed and costumed, participate in a feast, then be taken out for the ritual shedding of blood, which would ensure the harvest for the next seven years. At no point would they be required to speak.

"What do you think, Spock?" asked Kirk, turning to his First Officer.

"It is illogical to perpetuate a myth, Captain, yet we cannot permit the sacrifice of so many innocent lives."

"Then you think we should do it?"

"I think we have no choice."

Perhaps unfortunately, neither of them was looking at Petyte at that moment, to see the triumph in his eyes. Masking it quickly, he said, "Thank you, gentlemen. Two of the children whose lives you will save are mine." He continued, speaking rapidly. "You have arrived just in time; today is the Day of Feasting, and already the people gather for this, the one day in which they are permitted to enter the City. My assistants will already have begun to make preparations for your transformation, and the High Priest will already have begun the ritual.

"I realize, Mr. Spock, that, as a Vulcan, you do not normally drink any form of alcoholic beverage. Unfortunately, however, it will be necessary for you to drink the ceremonial wine given to you at various points during the ritual. Captain, I know that you would also probably prefer to remain clear-headed as long as possible - the ritual wine is rather potent. Perhaps, however, you would both care for some fruit juice to refresh you while you wait?"

***

The wait was not of long duration. Soon, several priests, already dressed for the ceremony in white robes and with their faces painted in ornate patterns which bespoke some ritual significance, arrived and escorted them to separate anterooms. Petyte accompanied Spock in order to explain the ritual to him, as he would take the lead at several points. Kirk, a little nervous now that he was on his own, but resigned to the inevitable, accepted the assistance of the temple servants who began to prepare him for the ceremony. They seemed a gentle, happy people, rejoicing in their good fortune that the god himself had come in their hour of need. Kirk felt a little guilty about deceiving them, but reflected that saving the lives of so many innocent children was justification enough.

He did not, however, permit them to undress him, for although his alien clothes did not matter, his communicator would have aroused curiosity. He managed to slide the device under his shirt.

"What will happen to these clothes?" he asked.

"Whatever you wish. No one would dare touch them without your permission."

"Leave them here; I will see to them myself after the ceremony."

***

Relaxing in a warm bath pleasantly scented with herbs, Kirk sipped at the spiced wine that was handed to him. Petyte was right, he thought, it is potent!  He hoped that Spock, unused to alcohol as he was, could cope with its effects. He noticed that the attendants regarded him with considerable awe, apparently fascinated by the color of his hair; they all, he realized, had hair of a much darker hue. One of the younger attendants, a laughing, gray-eyed boy, reached out daringly and touched the fair hair lightly; a hiss of disapproval from the senior servant made him snatch his hand away guiltily, and Kirk smiled, indicating that he was not offended. The laughing eyes held his for a moment; then Kirk was assisted from the bath and dried. It seemed that he was to be waited on hand and foot; the slightest attempt to do anything for himself brought a flurry of consternation, and finally he submitted with a good grace, absently sipping the wine - it really was delicious - which was replenished automatically by one of the attendants every time the level sank appreciably.

Kirk allowed himself to be dressed, paying little attention to the garments that were brought. Finally the oldest of the servants stepped forward carrying a small box, and worked carefully on his face. When he moved away the busy attendants paused in their tasks, turning to gaze in awe.

Wondering uncomfortably what he looked like, Kirk rose and handed the goblet to the nearest servant, then crossed to look in the mirror. The image that met his startled gaze was no longer that of James Kirk - a strange, exotic being stood in his place, dressed in a brief tunic of white silk, patterned and belted with green. The same pattern, Kirk remembered, was picked out in white on the priests' robes, though it did not stand out so clearly. His hair, brushed and polished until it shone, was circled by an ornate band of gold; in addition, a heavy gold chain bearing a medallion decorated with the same pattern hung round his neck. Green sandals laced to the knee completed the costume.

He leaned closer, studying his face. In contrast to the ornate designs he had seen on the priests, similar to those on the medallion, he realized now that little had been done. His eyelids had been touched with gold and his lips gilded, as were his fingernails. Just haw potent was the wine? he suddenly wondered; the pupils of his eyes looked enormous. In the cool depths of the mirror his image burned, white and green and gold, blazing against the dimness.

He turned, as he heard the mellow notes of a gong, to see two of the priests bowing in the doorway.

"The Green Man awaits," they chorused.

The gray-eyed boy stepped forward, wrapping Kirk in a long cloak of soft green material. Feeling strangely light-headed, he followed the priests from the room; had he looked back, he would have seen the gray eyes follow him with an expression of utter adoration.

The passage they followed led directly to the crowded main hall of the temple; an open pathway had been left down the center, and he was conducted through the mass of people. A corner of his mind registered with some surprise that all of them were male; this must be a religion in which the sexes were segregated for worship.

As he passed. they fell to their knees, heads bowed reverently. Conscious of being the center of such adulation, he kept his eyes lowered as he walked. Soon he was climbing the steps to a dais, halting when his guides did. For a moment he stood motionless; then, drawn by some irresistible compulsion, he looked up, and his eyes widened.

Three steps above him was a vast, carved throne; sitting on it was a man clad in vivid, shimmering green, the green of the cloak he himself wore. The expressionless face was welcomingly familiar, though the eyes and lips had been touched with silver, making it look even more finely carved than usual. A pair of magnificent silver antlers branched above his head, apparently rising directly from the sleek, dark hair; even this close, Kirk could not see how they were attached. Gleaming and graceful, they added to his height, and somehow gave him a strange, imposing grandeur.

His eyes met the slanting dark ones; Kirk felt as though a fist had been suddenly driven deep into his stomach. They were glowing as he had never seen Spock's eyes glow before, with a breathtaking brilliance that aroused in him a feeling he did not dare name.

His guides turned, unfastened the clasp holding the green cloak, and retired. As the concealing folds swung away a breathless hush fell over the temple. For the people, this marked the beginning of the ceremony - their first sight of the Green Man and his Consort. The awed silence deepened; the two figures on the dais had a radiance that surely only divinity could impart, a strange, unearthly beauty that all sensed was more than mortal. Their awareness of each other was almost tangible; they might be clothed in Human flesh, but who could doubt their magic when all could feel the spell of their harmony? The memory of even the oldest witness could not recall such an all-pervading sense of emotional power as was being broadcast now.

The Green Man moved, inclining his antlered head gracefully as he extended his hand; very slowly the Consort ascended the steps, took the outstretched hand, and was drawn to sit at the Green Man's side. All noticed that their eyes remained locked; it was as though they moved through a world which barely existed for them, seeing only each other's radiance, scarcely heeding the ceremony which now began to unfold around their motionless figures.

Kirk was trying frantically to keep his face impassive, terrified that Spock might sense the emotions that bewildered him. He desperately wanted to look away, but could not evade the brilliant eyes holding his. He was intensely aware of physical sensation - the blood rushing through his veins, the rhythmic pounding of his heart that beat like muffled drums in his ears.

The wine... it must have been drugged... He could not understand what was happening to him, but somehow he did not care; they were where they should be, where they belonged - together. Soon this barbaric ceremony would be over, they would be alone, and they would... He shook his head then, trying to dispel the half-formed, scarcely-comprehended images. Unconsciously his grip on Spock's hand tightened, silently asking for reassurance; it did not come.

Spock himself was having difficulty maintaining control. He had played his part to perfection; untroubled as yet by the drug in his system, he had stood calmly watching Kirk's approach through the crowd, mentally reviewing the course Petyte had told him the ritual would follow. Then had come that unprepared-for moment when the green cloak had been whirled away, and Kirk's white/green/gold shimmering figure had stood before him, blazing against the dim background of the temple. With a frantic effort he had kept his face decently expressionless, but his mind reeled under the double shock. First, dominating all else, was the overwhelming surge of emotion he had felt; second was the realization that far away, remotely, his logical Vulcan mind was asking why this sight of Kirk, unusual though it might be, had produced such a torrent of uncontrollable Human emotion.

Now he sat gazing into the enormous golden eyes, conscious as never before of the cool hand lying so calmly in his. From its buried depths the Vulcan mind tried to scream a warning, to alert him to the unsuspected danger, but it went unheeded. The Human in Spock, released by the drug, was at the surface now, and he waited passively, experiencing the sensations of the moment, knowing that something more was to come, but not what, wondering vaguely what was happening, but not really concerned.

The High Priest advanced, bearing a crystal chalice half filled with pure sparkling water. Kneeling before Spock he held it out, waiting. He was joined by another priest who carried a silver knife; this, too, was held out to Spock. Now what had Petyte told him? _Ah, yes!_

The watchers saw the antlered head turn slowly, bent down to study the chalice. The Green Man rose, drawing the Consort with him, and slowly descended the steps of the throne. The silver knife was offered and accepted; metal flashed as the Green Man drew the blade across his left hand. For a moment he held his clenched hand over the chalice, then opened his fingers. Blood poured from the wound into the clear water; vivid emerald green, swirling and curling in the crystal goblet.

A gasp arose from the tense watchers - this must be the Horned One himself, for what mortal man's veins ran with blood of such a color? The Green Man turned to his Consort, his bloody hand extended in invitation.

Moving as though in a dream, Kirk obeyed the summons of the brilliant eyes, extending his hand fearlessly. The blade was sharp; he felt no pain, only an unusual warmth as Spock drew his hand over the offered crystal chalice.

He watched, bemused, as his blood dripped into the water, the spirals twisting and mingling with Spock's. Emerald and crimson, magnified by the pure clarity of the crystal, their blood glowed as though with inner light.

A firm but gentle pressure on his hand stopped the bleeding, and he watched with curiosity, wondering what came next. The waiting audience knew. The Green Man would begin the transfer of power, slowly resigning his authority into the hands of his Consort.

Silver horns flashed cold fire as the Green Man received the chalice and drank. Obedient to the message in the dark eyes, the Consort knelt, raising his hands to cover those of the Green Man as the chalice was held to his lips.

For a timeless moment Kirk gazed into the lucidity, watching the glowing threads of green and red as they drifted and entwined; although unaware of the purpose of this act in the ritual, he knew that it held a deep personal significance for him - and for the dark silent figure inclined over him. He looked up, held that intense gaze for a moment, then set his lips to the chalice. The water was ice-cold, shot through with fire; he was almost certain he could detect the separate, distinct taste of his own blood - salty, tangy - and the bitter metallic flavor of Spock's as they combined in his mouth. He swallowed, the chalice was withdrawn, and he lost all interest in what became of it, for Spock's warm fingers pressed against his temples, and a tentative thought touched his mind.

 _Jim?_ The Vulcan seemed hesitant, unsure.

 _What is it, Spock?_ His own thought-patterns were curiously muddled.

_The next gesture... has ritual significance only._

Kirk saw the image vividly in the Vulcan's mind, and felt a curious... anticipation.

_We've got to go through with this; do what you must._

The priests standing close by were unaware of the mental communication. They exchanged glances as the Green Man assisted his Consort to rise. Frequently the joining was symbolic, with no actual feeling existing; they could all see the ties that bound this pair. It would give much greater meaning to the remainder of the ritual.

Kirk stood quietly, awaiting the moment, his lips slightly parted. The graceful head inclined towards him, and he closed his eyes for an instant as Spock's lips lightly touched his. The warm, gentle pressure increased, and he found himself looking into dark Vulcan eyes. He dared not think, for if he did he would have to put a name to the emotion that flooded him then, and he knew that Spock shared the same feeling. Their lips parted, warm breath fanned his face for a moment, then Spock was leading him back to the throne where he sat, outwardly calm, inwardly confused by a raging storm of emotion.

Kirk looked around the room, and noticed the same gray-eyed attendant who had dressed him, standing on the steps below the throne. The Chief Priest stood beside him. A line of young men wearing short white tunics held in place by narrow green belts filed in and knelt at the foot of the steps. He watched with mild curiosity as the Chief Priest sprinkled them with the bloodstained water. He turned to Spock, a half-formed question in his mind, but as his eyes again met Spock's and saw the possessive affection there, his own unexpected joy drove all other thoughts from his mind.

Part of Spock's consciousness was still paying attention to the Chief Priest, for he knew that at any moment now the signal would be given for the Green Man, with his Consort, to lead the way from this public assembly to the smaller room, where only the priests would participate in the ritual feast. As the signal came he rose, drawing Kirk to his feet, and, still holding the Human's hand, firmly led the way not down the steps, but to a small door to the right of the throne which Kirk now saw for the first time. The priests followed.

The room was totally enclosed, with no windows, but brightly lit by torches. Several tables were arranged at intervals about the room; a couch sat beside each table like an obedient servant. At one side, raised a little above the floor, was one long table with a dozen seats neatly arranged to face the main hall. At the other side of the room, raised even higher, was one more table, with its attendant couch, and a chair set as far from the couch as was feasible if its occupant was also to eat from the table.

Spock led Kirk to this table, and they took their places on the couch; the Chief Priest, immediately behind them, occupied the single seat. Following them closely came the twelve young men, whose role in the ceremony was still obscure; these young men made their way to the long table and occupied the chairs, gazing across at the tableau opposite with rapt attention. Behind them came a number of priests, who disposed themselves in twos at the remaining tables.

The tables were already laden with many dishes, gold plates marking each place. One man at each table began to serve the food; the Chief Priest himself served the Green Man and his Consort, and poured for them goblets of fruit juice, similar to that which Petyte had given them. Both men regarded this with gratitude; good though the wine had been, its potency was disturbing. In addition, they were sure it had been drugged in some way, though it had done them no harm, and they were glad to revert to an innocuous, non-alcoholic beverage.

The food was delicately flavored, and, as far as they could see, purely vegetable in origin, much to Spock's relief; he had been afraid that the requirements of his role would necessitate his consuming meat.

The feasting continued. Kirk emptied his goblet, and immediately the Chief Priest refilled it. Spock indicated that his goblet, too, should be replenished.

They began to realize that the atmosphere in the room was changing from a solemn formality to a strangely-anticipatory mood. The men at the tables were beginning to lean together, almost… caressing each other? Kirk and Spock looked at each other, distaste on both their faces, but what the people here did was not their concern; it was not their place to pass moral judgment. Only the twelve young men at the long table opposite took no part in this shameless display; instead, their attention seemed to be wholly fixed on the Green Man and his Consort.

Two men at a table near them were now locked in a positive embrace; others were no longer apparently caressing, but clearly and openly doing so. The feast was rapidly becoming a sexual orgy.

Slightly embarrassed, Kirk tried to cover his shock by gulping some of the liquid from his goblet; out of the corner of his eye he could see Spock doing the same.

Abruptly, Kirk found himself no longer able to focus clearly on what was happening; a shimmer seemed to form in front of his eyes for some moments. Everything had suddenly taken on a dream-like quality; their mission, the ship itself, even the men in the hall pawing at each other, who had seemed so objectionable only a moment before. A corner of his mind realized for an instant that they had been drugged once again; then that last flash of lucidity also slid into a limbo of unreality.

In an attempt to cover his uncertainty, he reached out to one of the serving dishes, intending to replenish his plate. Even as he did so, Spock reached for the same dish, and their hands touched.

The food forgotten, they looked at each other directly, each aware only of a sudden need to be as physically close to the other as he could possibly be. All that mattered was to find some way to say ‘thank you’ for the risks the other had taken for him, the friendship so freely given in the past - a friendship that had asked for nothing, save its acceptance.

Their arms closed around each other, each pulling the other close. Spock's hand went to Kirk's face, and the Human felt the gentle touch of the Vulcan's mind enfolding his with a tenderness he had never before experienced in a meld. Then Kirk's Human response stirred; Spock read it in his mind, and, with an incoherent murmur of love and longing, their mouths met in a long, passionate kiss.

***

They regained a measure of full consciousness to find themselves still locked in a fierce embrace, but now sprawling naked on the couch. The sense of unreality persisted, but the desperate physical need was gone. The Chief Priest was watching them intently; so also, though they were not aware of it, were the twelve young men across the room.

Spock released his grip on the Human and sat up, slight consternation in his eyes. Kirk shook his head, trying to clear it; he felt a sudden emptiness in his mind, and knew that Spock had broken the meld. For a moment he was aware of a terrible sense of loss, then the familiar isolation of his own mind reasserted itself, and he knew himself as the Human James T. Kirk, no longer an amalgam of Kirk and Spock, Human and Vulcan, seeking to combine into an eternal unity.

"The people wait," the Chief Priest said solemnly. "Come."

The thought of refusal never entered either head; they followed him through the hall, past bodies still sprawled together in the aftermath of cathartic sexual release, although a few individuals were beginning to stir groggily.

They were led outside and up steps to stand on a high platform surfaced with hard-packed earth. A crowd stood all around it, even filling the space through which they approached as soon as they were past. Still under the effect of the drug they had been given, the fact of their nudity did not disturb them, but both shivered in the cold wind that sent little dust-devils swirling and dancing across the ground, drying the sweat that still covered their bodies.

It was then that Kirk noticed the narrow-bladed, wicked-looking knife the Chief Priest was carrying. The sight shocked him back to a semblance of normality, and he touched Spock's arm, drawing the Vulcan's attention to the knife. Spock nodded; Kirk became aware of his thoughts again.

There is a further ritual bloodletting - then the ceremony is over.

Yet Kirk was not reassured; there was an air of expectancy that seemed too intense compared with the mood they had previously experienced in the temple.

His attention was suddenly drawn to one face in the foreground, gazing up at the platform with devout intensity. Petyte! This was not the attitude of a scientist studying an alien culture - such rapt attention could only belong to a fanatical believer. With recognition of this came realization; they had been tricked into participating in this seemingly-innocent ritual... but what hidden meaning did it have?

The Chief Priest stood at the front of the platform, the knife raised, held high for all to see.

"My people; many centuries ago the Horned One walked among us, and our lands flourished. We obeyed him, and he protected us. Among our young men was one he loved, and raised up to be his Consort.

"But the day came when he left us to return to his own place; he took with him his Consort, whom he loved too dearly to leave behind. Instead, he touched another of our people with his spirit, and told us that he, as the Green Man, would continue to care for us through the symbol of this mortal manifestation. But each Green Man's power would last only for seven years; at the end of that time, it would be lost unless he transferred it to another, his chosen Consort. His last duty was to shed his blood as a token that the Horned One was continuing to watch over our land and its fertility. A single grain of soil soaked in the Green Man's blood will give fertility to your fields for the next seven years, and potency will be added to the blood by the sacrifice made by the Green Man's Consort. As the Green Man gives his blood willingly, so his Consort gives us the sacrifice of his love by performing the killing ritual."

A cold shock stabbed Kirk as if the knife had pierced his heart – **they expected him  to kill Spock!** He glanced desperately at the Vulcan, seeing in the rigidity of his stance Spock's own shock.

"Spock!" he whispered. The Vulcan took his hand again; no one seemed to consider this at all unusual.

_I heard...you must strike me down, Captain._

_NO!_

_Jim, you must, on they will undoubtedly tear us both to pieces, since the letting of blood is such an integral part of the ceremony. There is no logic in your dying too._

_I can't kill you!_

_There is a chance._

The priest was speaking again, but, engrossed in their exchange, neither man heard what was being said; they were conscious only of the voice.

_As Dr. McCoy has frequently complained, my heart is 'where my liver ought to be'. These people do not know that; if you strike me where they expect my heart to be, they will think me killed. Your life will be safe, and you may then be given an opportunity to retrieve a communicator and have us both beamed back to the ship._

_The knife will penetrate a lung,_ Kirk replied agitatedly. _How do you know you won't bleed to death before we can get back to the ship?_

_A chance I must take, Jim. Remember, I can control the bleeding - at least for a time._

_No! Kirk repeated. At least let us die together._

_You must do it, Jim. If it works, it will permit us both to live; if it does not... I would prefer to die at your hands than at theirs._

They were given no further opportunity for discussion. The priest turned and took the three steps that brought him to face them, the knife held out reverently. Numbly, Kirk took it.

Spock stood calmly waiting, his gentle eyes fixed on Kirk's as if to give his Captain strength. You must do it echoed in Kirk's brain. With an abrupt movement, not giving himself time to think, he plunged the knife into Spock's body just below the rib cage, thrusting upwards. Spock stiffened for an instant and began to fall, the knife-hilt projecting from his body. Kirk caught him as he fell, and lowered him gently. Ignoring the priest, he leaned closer, his hand automatically moving to Spock's face.

The priest made no movement to intervene; it was expected that the Consort would be upset, and he was permitted a few seconds to indulge his grief. It had been foreseen that this Consort in particular would be deeply distressed, for all had seen the strength of his attachment. The priest waited patiently - this sacrifice was undoubtedly the most potent there had ever been.

Continue with the ceremony, Jim - I shall be all right.

As Kirk straightened the priest instructed quietly, "Draw out the knife." As if in a dream, Kirk obeyed, feeling the stickiness of blood on his hands, watching with a sick horror the gush of green that followed the blade. There was an awed, rustling murmur from the crowd, most of whom had not seen the first shedding of blood in the temple.

"His blood is green!"

The blood soaked quickly into the earth of the platform. As Kirk stood hesitantly, unsure what to do next, the priest took the knife from him and showed it to the people.

"Indeed, we have been much blessed," he said reverently. "The Horned One himself has shed his blood for us." He glanced back at the shock-dazed Human. "Come," he said quietly.

Kirk took one last look at Spock's body, still dripping blood, worried at the amount of blood the Vulcan had lost; then the priests closed in behind him, cutting off his last sight of his friend.

Walking in a nightmare, the Human followed as the Chief Priest led the way back into the temple, the knife carried ceremoniously high. He was aware of a general movement behind him - the crowd was also entering the temple, and for a moment, the numb horror was lifted by a surge of anger. Spock could be dying - if he was not already dead back there on that platform - killed so that his blood could fertilize their fields, and they were paying him as little attention as they would a dead dog. But anger died away again, as rapidly as it had come; the people were obeying their customs - there must be a further ceremony of some sort inside the temple.

They entered the great hall; waiting at the foot of the steps in front of the throne were the twelve young men, who were now naked. All were strikingly handsome, he noticed without any real interest, wondering vaguely what part they were to play in whatever came next. But he was not greatly concerned - his mind was still on the dais with Spock.

He was led to stand facing them; slowly he became aware of the way they were all looking at him, with awe, respect, and even hope. The priest moved to stand on the steps above them, the knife raised high.

"The sacrifice is complete; the cycle begins again," he announced. There was a hum of satisfaction from the hundreds who had crowded into the temple behind them.

Two junior priests approached, carrying a long strip of green cloth, magnificent in its richly-textured simplicity; they draped it reverently around Kirk, fastening it with a golden pin. He accepted their attentions with a distasteful resignation, realizing that he had no alternative, and that the sooner the ceremony was over the sooner he would - with luck - be able to recover his communicator and get Spock returned to the Enterprise. The greater the delay, the greater chance of Spock dying. The thought beat in his mind in a ghastly tattoo.

When the robe was adjusted to their satisfaction the two priests knelt in front of him, heads lowered.

"Green Man," the Chief Priest said, "these young men, the flower of our novices, have been brought here that you may choose your Consort. All are virgins, all are worthy of you; choose as you will."

Kirk looked at the young men with a revulsion he was barely able to conceal. He had entered this masquerade in ignorance of what it entailed, but these boys knew that the 'successful' one would be expected to satisfy the Green Man's sexual needs, whatever they might be; would be expected to kill his lover when the time came; and would in turn be killed that his blood might fertilize the fields. Yet all appeared willing, even eager. It took an effort of will for him to remember that this was their religion, that it must be considered a great honor to be chosen for sacrifice. They undoubtedly considered it worthwhile to die in their prime for the continued welfare of their race.

But he must choose one... Well, the youth of his choice would become Green Man sooner than he expected, for Kirk had no intention of remaining here a moment longer than necessary. Hurriedly he touched one of the youths at random.

"This one," he said.

The others immediately sank to their knees as the chosen youth, a delighted smile dawning, moved to his side. As he did so, Kirk realized that he had chosen the gray-eyed youth who had first attended him.

"So be it," said the Chief Priest.

The two young priests rose and led the Green Man and his new Consort through the small door into the inner rooms of the temple. The tables had been removed and all traces of the feast cleared away; they passed through the empty room and along the corridor to the anteroom he had first seen.

Kirk felt weak with relief when he saw his clothes, lying just as he had left them. The Chief Priest indicated a chair.

"Would it please you to wait while we prepare your Consort?"

Kirk nodded and sat, forgotten for the moment; all eyes were fixed on the youth now being assisted into the scented bath.

Knowing himself to be unobserved, Kirk rose and moved quickly to retrieve his communicator; he glanced around, satisfied himself that he was still forgotten, and slipped out. It was surprisingly easy to find his way back to the sacrificial platform. He ran up the steps and stopped, staring in disbelief - Spock's body was no longer there.

Kirk continued to stare at the empty platform in horror, his mind too numbed for a moment to let him think. No use to make inquiries; a dead sacrifice had served its purpose, and what had happened to the body was anyone's guess.

He was too late. Best to return to the ship, he thought dully, scan for Vulcan headings, and at least retrieve Spock's body. He reached slowly for his communicator.

"My Lord!" the quiet voice broke in. "Your Consort is ready, and he will brighten the future for you."

Kirk sensed dimly that the Chief Priest was attempting, however clumsily, to offer what comfort he was permitted to give. He slid the communicator into a fold of his robe and turned resignedly to re-enter the temple. Delay no longer mattered; Spock was dead.

The gray-eyed Consort smiled a welcome as Kirk approached. Remembering Spock's actions, Kirk reached out, and the boy placed his hand trustingly in the Green Man's. Together they followed the Chief Priest back to the temple; at the entrance, Kirk was led directly to the throne, while the Consort was escorted down the corridor. From his elevated position, Kirk watched as the boy was led in through the main door and between the ranks of worshippers, who sank to their knees as he passed. Kirk realized that this was how Spock must have watched his own approach earlier that day.

The youth mounted the platform and stopped three steps from the throne; his two attendant priests dropped to their knees. Kirk remembered with a pang Spock's next gesture and, leaning forward, he stretched out his hand to draw the boy to his side.

The Chief Priest was speaking, using the obscure temple dialect that Kirk did not understand; he watched with an increasing restlessness that he dared not show, longing for the seemingly-endless ritual to be over. He was aware of the expectant attitude of the boy at his side. and found time to wonder just what the priest was saying. After a time, he found himself grateful for the thick cushions on the curiously-carved throne - a solid wooden seat would have been most uncomfortable, considering the interminable length of the ceremony. He was, he knew, dwelling on trivial matters, but if he allowed himself to concentrate too closely on what was in his heart, he would be unable to continue. At last the Chief Priest spoke in words he could understand.

"The Green Man will now consummate his union with his chosen Consort, that all may witness the beginning of the new cycle."

The words hit Kirk with an almost physical shock; he watched, unbelieving, as the two attendant priests came to disrobe the youth. His mind searched desperately for a means of escape. The drug had completely worn off, and his normal inhibitions had returned; he knew that there was no way he could force himself to participate in a public mating with a complete stranger, even if it had been a woman - with a man, it was unthinkable.

The attendant priest turned to him, hands reaching out to undress him. Horror building in his mind, he fought to keep from screaming - he had done so much, gone so far to carry out this pretense. Now it seemed that he must fail at the last, and worst of all was the knowledge that, because of that failure, Spock had died in vain. The priests lifted him to his feet to undress him; as one began to unfasten the pin that held his robe, a familiar sound shattered the expectant silence.

A long reverent sigh arose as the glittering figure formed and solidified. Priests and people fell prostrate as the awe-inspiring figure turned its antlered head in search of the one face that mattered to it. Kirk stumbled forward, hands outstretched, hardly daring to believe that the fingers which clasped his were really Spock's. The Vulcan was wearing a green cloak which Kirk realized he could only have obtained on the Enterprise. With an effort he bit back the questions that trembled on his tongue; time enough for explanations when both were safely home again. For the moment he must let Spock handle this.

"The new cycle has indeed begun," Spock said in ringing tones. "My Consort is not to be touched by mortal man - he returns with me. In exchange, I give you a new law. Only the god's blood can fertilize the land - no longer need the Green Man die. Let the sacrifice still be made as I appointed so long ago, but let the shedding of the Green Man's blood be a token only, a symbol that, in my care for you, I no longer demand a death.

"The Green Man will still only hold power for seven years, and must then resign it to his Consort. The sacrifice of their love must be made, however, as a reminder that even I was not ashamed to make such a sacrifice. The retiring Green Man must forever leave the Holy City, to continue with his religious duties in some other part of the land. In order that the cycle may now begin anew, we transfer the power to the Chosen One of my Consort." Spock turned, his hand lifting to Kirk's face.

_I must touch his mind, Jim, to give the necessary impression. I will tell him only not to fear; he will believe that, in the contact, I have transferred the power to him._

_Carry on - but hurry, Spock._

In the touch he could sense Spock's growing weakness, and knew that they must complete this final ritual as quickly as possible. He turned to the boy, holding out his hand.

"Come," he said gently, seeing that the boy was trembling. "Do not be afraid."

Kirk could see the youth almost visibly gathering his courage, but he approached resolutely; random as his choice had been, it had been good. He took the boy's hand and drew him to Spock. The brief meld formed, and awe dawned on the boy's face. He bent his head reverently. Kirk led him back to the throne; he sat, and looked at the Human with envious eyes.

"I would I were in your place, my Lord," he said softly.

Kirk smiled. "Few men have ever known the love the Horned One has given me." He returned to Spock's side, taking the hand extended to him. Spock looked around compellingly.

"You have the blessing of the Horned One," he said clearly.

Kirk felt the reassuringly familiar pull of the transporter beam, and realized that the words must have been a prearranged signal. His last sight on Ixle was of the envious eyes of his erstwhile Consort.

***

It was two days before McCoy released Spock from Sickbay, with strict instructions that the Vulcan was to remain in his quarters for at least another twenty-four hours before returning to light duty. Kirk had visited him in Sickbay, but by mutual consent they had refrained from discussing the events on Ixle in such a public place. Now, while they had privacy, Kirk knew that they must speak of it.

Both found themselves unwilling to broach the subject. Finally Kirk said, "Thank God McCoy disobeyed orders back there! Just how long did you have to wait before they beamed you up?"

"Not long, Captain. I was beamed up as soon as the scanners indicated that I was alone. We realized, however, that you might find it less easy to get away from everyone. I considered two or three courses of action; the one I took was dictated by the need to conform to the beliefs of the planet. We caused no disturbance - indeed, the manner of our departure could only have strengthened the faith of already devout believers. There has been no contamination.

"I do not think, however, that we can remove Petyte; he has established too secure an identity here, and is undoubtedly a sincere convert. He may have begun by tricking us, but I do believe that he was sincerely concerned with the welfare of his adopted people, and was convinced that it was the only thing to do. I am sure that he did, in the end, actually believe in our supposed 'divinity'; I do not think that he is wholly sane."

"You think we should just leave him?" Kirk asked.

"Yes, it seems best. We must report it, of course. I would suggest, in addition, that we recommend that Ixle be declared off-limits to the Vulcan race."

"I can see the need for that!" Kirk laughed, then grew serious. He fidgeted nervously, wondering how to broach the subject that was uppermost in both their minds.

Spock saved him by mentioning it first. "Is... what we were forced to do... troubling you, Captain?" he asked bluntly.

Kirk thought about it for an unnecessary moment longer. He had been considering his attitude since their return from the planet. "I don't think so," he said slowly. "It isn't something I'd ever have done from choice, but since I was forced into it, I'm just glad it was with you, and not a complete stranger. That boy... I could never have done it... but with you...  I must admit, the memory is not unpleasant... though I wouldn't care to repeat the physical experience. The mental union, however... that was... I regret its loss."

"Indeed," Spock commented. "I fully agree. The experience was... interesting; and while I feel no desire to repeat such behavior, I do not think we need feel shame concerning it - or even concerning the fact that we found it pleasurable. We were, after all, heavily drugged, and also conforming to the customs of the planet - reprehensible though I consider them."

Kirk shuddered. "Reprehensible? Plain heartless, I'd say!"

"We can, however, repeat the mental link occasionally," Spock added softly.

"I'm glad... "

They smiled understandingly as they looked at each other, knowing that this incident that could have proved so dangerous to the integrity of their friendship had been considered, evaluated, and relegated to unimportance.

"I cannot think," Spock said, with a touch of dry humor, "that blood, in the quantities the Chief Priest recommended, would be of any value in fertilizing the land."

"No - but if they believe it will - belief can work wonders."

Spock nodded. "Belief... yes, belief can work wonders," he agreed.

He could never say it, of course, but he knew that his belief in Kirk - and Kirk's in him - was what had saved both their lives more than once. They looked at each other, silently acknowledging yet again the bond that united them.

Then, seeking to lighten the moment, Kirk glanced over towards the chess board. "Come on then, Spock," he said. "I believe that this evening I'm going to beat you at chess."

"Belief," Spock replied solemnly, but with a gleam in his eyes, "is not always that efficacious, my friend."


End file.
